


All Things Considered

by thegirlinthebandtshirt



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Journalism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - NPR, Captain Swan Little Bang 2018, F/M, Mentions of Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 07:59:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13700262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlinthebandtshirt/pseuds/thegirlinthebandtshirt
Summary: When word of Robert Siegel's departure from NPR's "All Things Considered" goes public, Emma gets the chance to compete for her dream job. All that stands in her way are nine fellow journalists - one of them being the charismatic yet cocky Killian Jones. When she ends up paired with Killian on the first story, things get more complicated as she tries to balance fighting for her long-time aspiration and her budding relationship with this fascinating fellow reporter.





	All Things Considered

**Author's Note:**

> Brace yourselves, everyone. This has got to be the longest thank you/author’s note ever written. 
> 
> First off, a warning: This story contains mention of sexual assault.
> 
> Now, thank yous:
> 
> My first thank you has to go to @ProtoChan for listening to my ideas and frustrations and always supporting me, even though I refused to spoil the story for her. She didn’t have much to work with, but she helped anyway. Oh, and she absolutely wrote the summary for this story. Thank you, Jenna!
> 
> Next thank you goes to @Liloproductions. She took my near-15,000 words and turned them into some gorgeous cover art. This was really the first piece of art I’ve ever seen based on my writing, and I couldn’t have asked for a better artist to put all the details into an actual masterpiece. I definitely still stare at this piece every so often in complete awe. Lilo, thank you so, so much! (Oh, on top of her art skills, she’s a joy to talk to.)
> 
> I was lucky enough to be matched with two artists, so I want to give the next thank you to @sailingcaptainswan. Not only did she leave the BEST comments on my story as she read it, but she also created an amazing gifset, which presents highlights from the story beautifully. I refused to close the tab with the gifset on my laptop from the time it was finished to today. Megan has some serious talent. I can’t believe she produced such an incredible gifset when she had two other stories to work on also. She’s amazing. Megan, thank you so very much!
> 
> And now @NextFewWords. Wow. I am so lucky to have gotten such an amzing, incredible, wonderful beta. She is the only reason this story is readable. She’s a formatting master, diction superstar, and all-around great human being. This story would never be where it is now if not for her. I really got the jackpot in the beta lottery. She’s so supportive, and I can’t find it in me to delete any of the sweet comments she left on my story. She is a saint to put up with all my questions and ramblings and crazy weird schedule. So a HUGE thank you to my word filter, my own personal cheerleader, and NPR’s newest fan. :) THANK YOU!!!
> 
> Shout out to everyone who put the Captain Swan Little Bang together and helped us out along the way. I can’t wait to read all the other stories in the project! 
> 
> A few quick disclaimers before the good stuff:  
> NPR and WBUR are real radio stations/news outlets.  
> “All Things Considered” and “It’s Been a Minute” are real shows/podcasts on NPR.  
> Robert Siegel, Sam Sanders, Linda Holmes, and Kelly McEvers are real reporters/hosts on NPR.  
> I do not own any of the above.
> 
> Congrats on making it to the end of my thank yous! Before you proceed to the story, BEWARE. There is mention of sexual assault. The rating is M for this reason, so proceed with caution. No smut, sorry. 
> 
> Now, enjoy the story!

“Come in, Miss Swan.” 

Emma stopped pacing the hallway and followed her boss into the office. To say Emma was nervous would be an understatement. She loved her job, and she took pride in a job well done, so she couldn’t figure out why her boss had requested her presence. And not knowing may have been worse than knowing she did something wrong and dreading the meeting all day. But she showed up at her boss’ office as soon as her shift was up, not even stopping at her own cubicle so she could get ready to head home after the mysterious meeting. Getting there early led to the nervous pacing as Emma let her mind wander, debating what she could have possibly done wrong to warrant a talk with her boss. Being called to come in was almost a relief. 

“Thank you for coming by.” 

Emma sat in the chair facing her boss, suddenly feeling far too low on the ground. Her boss sat across from her, seeming to tower over the big mahogany desk, and Emma actually had to look up to make eye contact. _Appropriate,_ Emma thought, as the state of her job and general well-being was in the hands of the woman looking down at her. Her boss sighed when Emma didn’t say anything. 

“You’re not in trouble, Emma.” 

Regina Mills - station manager at Storybrooke Public Radio - crossed her legs under her desk, pulled the jacket of her pantsuit tighter around her, and turned her laptop so Emma could see the screen. 

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Robert Siegel is leaving ‘All Things Considered’.” Emma shook her head, still unsure of why exactly she was called into her boss’ office. Regina didn’t try to hide her eye roll at Emma’s inability to put the pieces together. “Robert Siegel is leaving ‘All Things Considered,’ which means there’s an opening for a host position at NPR.” 

Regina sighed again at Emma’s silence, irritation creeping into her voice as she continued. “The job will be open to anyone, but NPR wants, ideally, to hire someone from one of their member stations.” 

Emma nodded, a bit stunned at the course of the conversation. 

“The managers at NPR are asking member stations for recommendations. They want reliable reporters who are strong journalists, and I’ve given them your name.” 

Emma couldn’t be sure how far her jaw dropped, but she wouldn’t be surprised if it hit the floor. NPR was the big leagues of public radio, and working there had been Emma’s goal since her first story had gotten picked up by her college’s radio station. She’d immediately changed her major from criminal justice to journalism and radio. Journalism was Emma’s chance to give a voice to the voiceless and shed some light on matters of importance. Emma Swan had a talent for presenting news in an unbiased manner, and she had something of a built-in lie detector that repeatedly proved helpful in sniffing out the truth from the lies - a skill of great value in the world of journalism. And now Emma Swan had a real chance to work for NPR. 

Realizing she’d been staring at her boss with a dumbstruck look on her face for a questionable amount of time, Emma shook herself out of it. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Regina.”

“You’ll still need to go through the application process, but your work at this station gives you an edge. Of course, there will be plenty of other people in your situation, but I know how talented you are, Miss Swan. You have a gift for radio journalism.” Emma had known Regina since high school, and she’d never heard her compliment someone like that. Her jaw dropped for the second time.

“I expect you won’t let me down.”

“Of course not. I want this.” Emma had never felt more determined in her entire life.

“You may go now, Miss Swan.” 

Emma stood up and walked to the door. She paused before walking out.

“Thank you.” 

Regina just nodded, not looking up from her laptop. Emma took that as her cue to leave her boss’ office. She went straight home after rushing to pack up her stuff for the day. Immediately upon arriving at her apartment, she printed the application for the job. She made the decision right then and there that she wouldn’t settle for anything less than her dream position. Emma Swan was going to work for NPR, no matter what it took.

 

Emma tapped her foot a few times and sighed to herself. She and nine others - she’d counted - had been called in to come to NPR’s headquarters in DC. She’d been thrilled to receive the email, at least until she was directed to a conference room she now shared with the other hopefuls. The nine other interviewees were talking amongst themselves, but Emma had no desire to get to know the competition.

A man walked in the room, effectively silencing the chatter. He looked like a man who was used to silencing rooms with his entrance, so it didn’t surprise Emma when he introduced himself as part of NPR’s Human Resources department. His name was Andrew Ventequez, but he told the competitors to call him Andrew.

“You’ve all gotten past the application review and your first two interviews. We narrowed down over 200 applicants to just the ten of you. And since the job is so high-profile and public, we decided we’d try to do something different. We’re going to make this process a little more interesting.” 

Emma frowned. She didn’t want ‘interesting’. She very much wanted ‘simple and usual’. 

“Most of you are from member stations, a couple of you are not. Regardless, we want to hold a competition of sorts. Winner takes the hosting gig of ‘All Things Considered’ and a regular reporting job here at NPR.” 

Emma could do competition. Years of living in group and foster homes made her naturally competitive. She was going to wipe the floor with these other reporters. 

“So what will this entail? Basically, we’re going to have you all work on stories, and we’ll feature them on different NPR shows. Even if you don’t get the position, you’ll have been featured. We’ll occasionally suggest stories we want covered, and the rest you’ll find on your own. We will evaluate how you cover the stories both in writing, and on air. We also want to get the donors involved. While our evaluations will make up the bulk of our hiring criteria, we will be asking the opinions of our donors.” 

A chorus of chatter arose in the room. The ten applicants glanced around at each other, sizing the others up. Emma peeked around as well, intrigued by the challenge and ready to crush it. 

“The competition will begin tomorrow. Today, we’ll give you a tour around the complex, and we’ll let you take some time to get to know each other.” 

Emma wasn’t interested in getting to know anyone. Once the competition was over, she’d likely never see any of them again. Thinking she could escape to the hallway until the tour, she slunk back and tried to make her escape. But before she could dart out of the room, her path to the door was blocked. 

“Killian Jones, Boston Public Radio. And you are?”

Emma huffed out a breath and stood up straight, taking in Killian Jones. Damn, he was attractive. He was dressed in clothes that absolutely had to be made for him - clothing just doesn’t look like _that_ on most people. Black jeans, a dark blue button-down shirt, and a black leather jacket. Well, hot damn. Her eyes trailed upward; his shirt was strategically unbuttoned at the top, displaying thick, dark tufts of chest hair. Emma’s mouth was getting dry already. Forcing her gaze from his chest, she scanned him from the neck up - well-groomed scruff and hair of a god. It was professionally disheveled - if that’s even a thing - and it made him look good. _Snap out of it, Emma._

She met his eyes, ready to narrow her own and challenge him. Boy, was that a mistake. She had never seen anything so blue in all her life. His eyes were the color of forget-me-nots, and there was so much soul in his eyes, she could get lost. Hell, she probably stared into them for an unreasonable amount of time, but she couldn’t be sure because she also seemed to lose track of time in that blue. Ripping her eyes away from the magnetic pull of his, she crossed her arms and glared at him. 

“Everything alright, love?” 

She didn’t realize his hand had been extended this whole time. She ignored it. 

“I’m not your love.”

“Well, considering you haven’t told me your name, I don’t know what I’m to call you.” He leaned back against the doorframe - wow, she’d been so close to escaping before he trapped her - and cocked his head at her, waiting for her to say something. 

Looking at the floor, she answered him, “Emma Swan, Storybrooke Public Radio.” She still didn’t take his hand. He took that as his cue to drop it.

“I’ve never heard of Storybrooke before.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to.”

“Where is it, if I may ask?”

“Maine.” 

“You’re not making it easy to speak to you, Swan.” She tried to move to the door, but he got up from leaning on the doorframe to block her.

“Maybe that’s because I don’t feel like talking.”

“To me?”

“To anyone. Hence why I was trying to leave the room before you blocked me.” She may have pointed her finger at him on the word “you.” He may have smirked. The idiot. 

“And you don’t want to get to know the competition? Sniff out any weaknesses?”

“Don’t need to. I’ll win anyway.”

“You’re pretty confident there, Swan.”

“My name is Emma. And I’m confident because I know I’m good.”

“So is everyone in this room,” he clicked his tongue, “allegedly.” He shrugged.

“Is that what you’re doing?” 

“What?”

“Sniffing out my weaknesses?”

“I don’t think you have any.” Emma wasn’t expecting that answer. She was stunned silent. She hoped she didn’t let the shock show on her face, but by the smirk on his, she’s pretty sure she wasn’t successful at controlling that particular facial expression.

Emma raised an eyebrow in question. 

“I may have just met you, Swan, but I know better than to underestimate you.” He stood up from against the doorframe and moved aside, clearing the doorway for Emma. She eyed him for a moment before stepping toward the open doorway.

As she passed him on her way out, she turned and said, “good,” leaving him to watch as she left. 

 

Emma was no happier to see the other nine reporters at NPR headquarters the next day. However, Emma was happy to begin the actual competition. She’d been itching to do a story since she arrived in DC. Positioning herself as close to the door as possible without actually being in the hallway, she stood and waited. She wanted to get some of the complimentary coffee on the table in the far end of the room, but Killian Jones was sitting there talking to two of the other competitors. Emma figured she could go without coffee if it meant avoiding being roped into another conversation with Killian Jones. 

“Alright reporters,” the NPR executive - Andrew - clapped his hands once as he entered the same conference room from the previous day. “We can’t expect your home stations to fund your housing for the entirety of the competition, so we are going to provide you with rooms at a hotel a few blocks from here.” Emma spared a glance at her competitors. Everyone seemed to be in agreement that this was exciting. Emma was certainly thrilled at the idea; the hotel Regina set her up with was pretty run-down, but it had the basic necessities. Any hotel NPR put her in was going to be a step up. 

“However...” _There’s a catch?_ “...We only have six hotel rooms.” 

Emma looked around. Six rooms for ten competitors? That didn’t add up. 

“We’re going to have you partner up for your first story in the competition.” 

Wait, what? Emma was supposed to be competing _against_ these people, not working _with_ them. 

“We are going to review your partner stories and eliminate two pairs.” 

Now Emma was nervous. She was never big about relying on other people. In her experience, other people pretty much sucked. And now her spot in this competition depended upon another person. 

“We’re going to let you all partner yourselves up, and the two of you will pick your own story together.” 

This was just getting worse and worse. Emma was starting to regret not talking to anyone yesterday, except - _crap_. Her stomach dropped as she realized exactly what was going to happen. She was going to have to work with Killian Jones. She was sure of it, even despite the fact that he was standing with their fellow competitors - three of the females eyeing him from all across the room. She knew she was going to end up working with him. 

“You can get started now. Stories are due in two days.” Andrew nodded once and walked out of the room. 

Confirming her prediction, Killian immediately strutted over to where Emma was standing, ignoring the calls from other - _female_ \- reporters asking him to work with them.

“Swan,” he smiled. 

“Hey, Jones.” Emma stared at her boots. She really didn’t know any of the other competitors, so was it so bad to work with Killian on one story? _Maybe he’s a really great journalist,_ she thought to herself, _he must be to have gotten this far._

“Do you have a partner yet?” Empty question. He knew she didn’t. She knew he knew.

“Um… not really.” She raised her eyes to meet his. His smile brightened.

“Would you do me the honor of being my partner?” She rolled her eyes. 

“You’re not proposing, Jones.” He shrugged. “But sure.”

“Really?”

“Why not? You’ve already sized me up. And now you can tell me everyone else’s weaknesses.” She couldn’t help but smile a bit as he chuckled.

“And why would I do that? I did all the work.”

“But now we’re on the same team. We share a common enemy - or enemies, I guess.” Killian’s tongue trailed along his bottom lip in some obscene kind of way.

“Fair point, Swan.” Letting out the breath she’d been holding since that tongue thing, Emma smiled at Killian despite being unsure of what to say next. “We should figure out our story.”

“Yeah.” Emma glanced around the room. “But not here.” 

“We can always go to my hotel room,” Killian winked. Emma tensed. She knew he didn’t mean anything by it; it was just flirty banter to him. But that didn’t stop her breathing from quickening. 

“Um… No. Um… There’s a Starbucks down the street. There.” She hoped Killian didn’t notice how breathless she sounded. 

If he did, he said nothing. “Lead the way, Swan.”

 

“Why don’t you reserve us a table, Swan? I’ll get the drinks.” 

“I can pay for my own drink.”

“I never suggested otherwise. I simply wanted to be a gentleman.” Emma crossed her arms in the middle of the coffee shop. 

“I’m getting my own drink.” 

He put his hands up in surrender and followed her as she took a spot in line. She was looking at the shoulders of the woman in front of her, but Emma could feel Killian’s stare on her. She tugged on the zipper of her red leather jacket and turned to face him when he tapped her arm. He raised his eyebrows in greeting. 

“I won’t buy you a drink, but can I buy you a cookie?” She raised an eyebrow; he mirrored the pose. “Something?”

“Look, I don’t like when guys pay for me. It makes them feel entitled to things.” 

His eyebrows went from questioning to furrowed in mere seconds. He didn’t have to ask what kind of things. He knew. Emma frowned. She didn’t mean to give so much away. No one in this competition needed to know anything personal about her, yet she couldn't control her reactions around Killian for some reason. He was already dangerously close to learning some things about Emma's past she'd rather not revisit.

“Swan,” he said softly. She made a noise in her throat that could be considered questioning. “It’s your turn to order.” Emma felt her cheeks grow hot as she turned around and ordered a hot chocolate - she really didn’t need the coffee if she and Killian were just going to be talking. She was alert enough as is. Coffee would only make her more jittery. 

After paying for her own drink, she stepped to the side to wait for it. Killian joined her moments later, a drink already in his hand. 

“How do you already have your drink?” She glared at the white and green cup in his hand, thinking he must have flirted with the barista to get her to make it right away for him. 

“Black coffee. Doesn’t need to be prepared.” Emma scrunched her nose. She couldn’t drink coffee without a ton of sugar and flavoring. He chuckled at her disgusted facial expression. It was weird standing there with him while neither of them said anything.

“Go get us a table or something.” 

“But then who will retrieve my scone?” Of course he’d gotten a scone. “I am from Britain after all.” It was like he read her mind. She looked at him - wow, he had a nice profile. 

“Why’d you move here?” He turned to look at her, blue eyes meeting green. 

“Personal questions already? We've just been acquainted, Swan.”

“We're journalists. Asking questions is what we do.” She just hoped he wouldn't. And, yes, she was totally aware of the double standard there.

“Well, Swan, my brother and I had a rough childhood. Both of our parents...” he paused to consider his wording, “...left us back in England.” There was more to that. He chose that wording carefully. By the look on his face, he knew he’d been caught in the half-truth, but he continued. “We wanted to distance ourselves from those memories.” 

He stepped forward to pick up his freshly-warmed scone using the same hand that held his coffee. Emma almost missed the call for her hot chocolate because she was too busy staring at him. That was all in the realm of incredibly personal. Who could blame her for staring in shock for a questionably long moment? 

She grabbed her drink and followed him to a table. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Swan. I’ve come to terms with my past.”

“I didn’t really have a family either. I’m a foster kid.” Well, add that to the ridiculous number of personal things Killian found out about Emma today. She was just disclosing everything to him. That probably meant something. She decided not to dwell on that thought. 

“‘Am’? Present tense?”

“Never really ended up with a family. My own fault. I ran away before they could realize they didn’t want me.” She gulped her hot chocolate to keep from saying more. It burned her throat on the way down and she coughed into her arm. She probably deserved the burn; maybe it would serve as a reminder to keep her mouth shut. They were only there to figure out their story.

“We can focus on our story if you want, Swan.” She gaped at him. He always seemed to know what she was thinking.

“How-”

“You’re something of an open book.” Emma narrowed her eyes. His ability to read her so easily freaked her out, but he could probably read that, too. She was thankful he didn’t show it. Instead, he ripped off a chunk of his scone and popped it into his mouth. “So, our story. Did you have any preferences?” 

“I want to do something on the Harvey Weinstein Effect.” 

He groaned. He actually groaned. 

“What?” She gripped her hot chocolate slightly tighter than she should have, but still kept the cup’s structure functional.

“Everyone is covering the sexual assault stories.” He definitely noticed Emma tense at his words. Maybe she wasn’t the only open book in this relationship. 

“People are still judging the credibility of the victims.”

“Some people are lying for the attention.” He wasn't _trying_ to test her - that much she could tell. But he also wouldn't quite meet her eyes; he looked at the mugs for sale on a shelf behind Emma to her left instead. Perhaps he was suspicious about her connection to the issue.

“That’s true. But most people aren’t lying. And people are suggesting it was their fault - the victims, I mean - and that’s if they even believe the stories at all.” Emma sat up straighter. She was going to win this. 

“Covering this - it’s not original. It won’t get us through.”

“What are your ideas, genius?” She crossed her arms. She was being overly defensive. If she were him, she would’ve been able to read her, too. 

“The 25th anniversary of _Aladdin._ ” 

She exhaled harshly. 

“Seriously? You want to do a story on a cartoon genie when women are getting accused of ‘asking for’ men to assault them?” She put air quotes around “asking for” and leaned in as she spoke. She was an uncomfortably close distance to his face. She could smell the coffee on his breath when he spoke next. 

“Why are you pushing so hard for this?” 

This wasn’t fair. He knew exactly why. He could read her. He’s probably known since she’d suggested Starbucks. 

“Swan,” he sat back and his eyes dropped to the table. “I’m sorry, Swan. I’m pushing.” Emma sat back as well, taking a couple deep breaths and nodding to acknowledge his apology. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just want to understand why you're so passionate about covering an entirely unoriginal story.”

Maybe it wasn’t the most original topic, but it was important - _really_ important. They were going to do this story no matter what it took. Emma was determined. She knew what she had to do.

“If I tell you why this means so much to me, will you do the story?” Emma’s eyes were transfixed on the place where her cup was resting on the table.

“That’s fair.” He leaned closer to her when she didn’t say anything. “Try something new, darling. It’s called trust.”

“I don’t have the easiest time trusting people.”

She hesitated, but lifted her eyes to look at the man across from her. His eyes were wide and full of compassion. She definitely looked as terrified as she felt. She wasn't really going to tell him this - was she?

“You don’t have to tell me. We can do your story anyway. I know it means a lot to you.” He was giving her an out. She could take it and they would still do her story. But why did she suddenly _want_ to tell him? 

“No. If you're sacrificing your story idea for me, for an idea you're not confident in, then you deserve to know.” He said nothing. He was going to let her do this at her own pace. She appreciated that. This was something she had tried very hard to suppress. It had been a decade - at least - since she said the words aloud. “I wasn’t always going to be a journalist.”

“Oh?”

“I was a criminal justice major at first. I wanted to be a cop.”

He grinned. “Sheriff Swan?” He was attempting to make her less nervous. It may have worked - just a little. 

Killian was harmless - her lie detector never sounded with him. The therapist she was forced to see had said talking about it would help her move on. Though, admittedly, her therapist probably hadn’t meant Emma should tell an almost-stranger. Semantics. Emma decided at that moment that she would tell him. Trust - she was trusting him.

She followed his questioning. “That was the goal. Or maybe detective.” 

“You are certainly tough enough to be in law enforcement.” 

“Yeah, well, I ended up switching to journalism my first semester.” 

She was about to tell someone her story for the first time since college. It was daunting. She usually tried not to think about it, and yet, she was about to tell Killian Jones, who she had only just met yesterday. And in the middle of a Starbucks near NPR headquarters no less. How the hell had she let herself get into this situation? And why wasn't she more freaked out about it? _Damn Killian._

“I interned with the campus police. Freshman interns were almost unheard of, but I passed all the exams.” He looked genuinely impressed. “The intern mentor - his name was Neal. He was new that semester. He was in charge of all the interns. He gave us assignments and signed our paperwork and everything.”

She watched Killian’s face change as he put the pieces together. He was already ahead of her, it seemed. He immediately opened his mouth to speak.

“Swan,” his voice was low and careful. “I didn’t know - I didn’t - I wouldn’t have -” Emma had never heard Killian stutter before. “I just thought you had a story that meant a lot to you or something. Or a friend. I don't know. I never thought-” His right hand shot up to scratch behind his ear. He really hadn't figured it out until now. 

“What happened to open book?” Her effort at light-hearted teasing fell a bit short.

“You’re just so tough. I didn’t think you could have gone through anything like that.” 

“I don’t exactly advertise it.”

“I’m sorry for pushing. I really just thought you encountered a story somewhere that was exceptionally moving. Or maybe you had a friend that went through it.” He had no clue what to say. That was a first. “Oh, gods, Swan. I am so sorry.” Emma just shook her head. He really felt bad.

His eyes widened again with another realization. “Oh, Swan. I never meant anything by any of my comments.”

“What?” She was a little surprised he found something else to apologize for, especially when she had no idea what he was talking about. 

“Liam always told me my merciless flirting would get me in trouble.” Oh. _Oh._ “Apologies, Swan. I never meant to make you uncomfortable.” 

“No, no, no. I know you never meant anything.” Killian made a noise sounding like a cough that got stuck in his throat. “I have this superpower. I always know when someone is lying. And I knew you wouldn’t do anything.” He visibly sighed in relief. “Trust me, if I saw anything bad in you, I would not be here with you right now.” 

“I still apologize. I made some inappropriate comments, and I pushed you too far. I just wanted to get to know you, and instead I’m making a right arse of myself.” 

He wanted to get to know her? That was new. Even more, this was the first time a man had ever considered his own actions and apologized to her - not out of pity, but genuinely. And Emma knew Killian meant every word. Something about that made her more inclined to open up to him. None of this was in the plan, but it was happening.

Emma never would have continued if he wasn’t so genuine.

“So Neal-”

“Swan, you don’t have to.”

“Surprisingly, I want to.” And she meant it. It didn't make sense and it scared the hell out of her, but she wanted to tell Killian Jones her story. He considered for a moment before conceding. 

“In that case, I would be honored to learn more about your beginnings, Swan.” He took a sip of his coffee and waited for her to take over the conversation. 

She was really going to do this. Her heart was beating at what was probably a very worrying speed. She was anxious to verbalize the event after a decade of suppressing it. And maybe it made her a little hopeful. Her therapist may have been onto something - not that Emma would ever admit it. 

“Neal had all the interns doing office jobs at first - mostly paperwork. And one day, he asked me if I wanted to grab some pizza after work. I didn’t want to, but I went anyway. I figured I could show him I had what it took to be put on different jobs. So we got pizza at a place near campus. The next day, I got to help with campus security.” 

Killian was already visibly cringing in anticipation. 

“I went back to paperwork after that. So when he asked me to grab tacos with him a few days later, I went. The next day, I got another security job.” 

“Swan, you can stop.” She shook her head.

“You need to hear this to the end.”

She barely heard his whispered, “okay.”

“Neal and I kept going out. Every time we did, I’d get jobs. I think the other interns basically knew what was going on. Some of them went out with him to get jobs, too. But none of us said anything. I know it was kinda naive, but I thought the more he got to know me, the more he saw potential.”

“Wait,” Killian interrupted her story. She almost glared at him, but he looked adamant he say whatever was on his mind. “What happened - it wasn’t your fault.”

It took her a moment too long to respond. “I know.” 

He nodded skeptically and pulled off a chunk of his scone. She could practically see him thinking, but he was letting her speak. 

“And one night, we were out for pizza. He suggested we watch a movie at his apartment. I told him I had a lot of homework, so I was just going to head back to my dorm. He said that if I went over and just watched a movie, then I could shadow a campus officer. Not just security, but on the job with an actual police officer. All I had to do was watch a movie with him.” 

She paused. 

“So I did. And we watched a movie, and I went home. And the next day, I shadowed an officer for the first time.” 

Killian was remarkably attentive. Emma was seriously reconsidering the conceited, self-sure image she formed of him after their conversation the previous day. But he was still going to be her competition after the partner stories - they were absolutely going to win; she was sure of it - something she had to keep in mind. She was telling him this for her own sanity, and maybe a little for the sake of their joint-story. But she was absolutely doing this for herself, and once she realized that, she found the strength to keep talking.

“He asked me back to his apartment again a couple weeks later, and, of course, I went. I wanted to shadow again. But during the movie, he- he, um… he slid his hand under my shirt.” 

Killian clenched his jaw.

“I told him ‘no’. I said that I wasn’t comfortable with it, but he kept going. And then he unbuttoned my jeans...” 

“Swan,” he interrupted her as he exhaled through gritted teeth.

“I was frozen at first. I knew I couldn’t do anything without jeopardizing my internship. But he kept going. I didn’t actually let him, you know, do anything. And he never asked me out again. But I didn’t have another job for two weeks. And then I got dropped from the internship program.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before opening them and continuing, “I reported it to the college. It was this big thing. We went to university court and everything.” 

“But?” He was smart. Of course there was a “but.” 

“But the case was a he-said-she-said case, and the court sided with the ‘he said’ side.” She didn’t think Killian could move with that amount of tensed muscles, but she watched as his face fell with the news. “They just thought I was making it up to retaliate for getting fired from the program. Or they thought we must have been drunk, or that I must have been wearing something revealing - neither of which makes it okay. But the point is that no one took me seriously.” 

His right eyebrow shot up to his hairline when she smiled. 

“I went to the journalism department in hopes that someone would tell my story. I ended up at the college radio station. They picked it up - my story. I took the names out, more to protect myself, and they ran the story four times that first day.” 

Emma took interest with a car in the parking lot visible through the window behind Killian. 

“A local station heard the story and picked it up. Then the newspapers. And local TV news. The college got into a lot of trouble. I’m pretty sure they knew it was me, but they weren’t going to punish me because they’d get in even more trouble. Anyway, it was then that I saw what journalists can do. I saw how important journalism is to society. I loved that they believed me, and they actually made change happen. The college changed all their proceedings for sexual assault charges. So yeah, I switched my major the day I saw my story on the news.”

Killian put his coffee cup on the table and leaned in. 

“Thank you for telling me. You didn’t have to.”

“I know. But I don’t want to let that control me anymore.” 

And it was true. She felt freer already. She wasn’t sure what it was about Killian, but she trusted him completely. And her usual urge to run was nowhere to be found. That should have scared her the most. It didn’t. _That must be significant._ She tried not to dwell on that. 

Emma grabbed her hot chocolate and took a large swig of it - anything to keep from thinking about how much she trusted this near-stranger named Killian Jones who was practically thrown into her life. 

“I was right.” She put her cup down and sent him a questioning look

“Huh?”

“You don’t have any weaknesses.”

 

“Can I ask you something?” They were back at Starbucks. Emma was typing up the story she and Killian were meant to do together for the website while Killian was working on notes for them to reference on air. 

“Of course.”

“You thought I was passionate because I had a story that meant a lot to me.” She paused her typing.

“Mhm.” He didn’t even look up from his laptop.

“Is that because you have a story like that?” She got her answer when he stopped typing and his eyes widened. His right hand darted upward to scratch behind his ear.

“Um… Actually, I did.” His cheeks went red. 

“Do you feel comfortable sharing it with me?” She closed her laptop and looked at Killian. 

“Well, after what you told me yesterday, I feel like telling you is the least I can do.”

“No, stop.” She put her hand up to cut him off. “I don’t want you to tell me because you think you should. You don’t owe me anything. Don’t tell me because you feel bad for me or whatever.” He looked a bit like a scolded child as a result of Emma’s stern tone. 

“Swan, you trusted me.”

“Yeah, well-” She didn’t actually know where she was going with that. She didn’t understand why she trusted him - or why she still did. 

“Well, I trust you as well. And if you felt better for having told me, then maybe telling you will help free me of this.”

“Okay.” She took a sip of her large hot chocolate, which she actually let Killian buy her. She also let him buy her a chocolate chip muffin.

“There was this woman-” That’s never a good start. “We, um… We were involved.” 

“You know you don’t have to, right?”

“Aye. But I want to. All cards on the table.” 

She nodded to motion for him to continue. 

“Milah was her name. She was my British literature professor at university. It was attraction at first sight. She was beautiful and brilliant and-” he trailed off, shaking his head. “She was everything.”

“What happened?” Emma was surprised at how weak her voice sounded. 

“She was married.” Emma’s mouth widened in a silent “oh.” He nodded. “I knew it when we began our relationship. She told me she filed for divorce. Her husband was a cold, cruel man.”

“She ‘told you?’” Emma wasn’t quite sure what Killian was getting at, but she was going to hear him out. 

“She truly did file the papers, but her husband...” Emma decided to keep her mouth shut this time. “He refused to sign. He wouldn’t allow her the freedom of her relationships. And he had complete control of her finances as well. Unless she was with him, she had no money.” Killian scrubbed his hand over his face. “She left him anyway. She said she loved me so much, the money didn’t matter. She was able to change the bank account her salary went to, since she was still teaching. So she moved in with me. And we had all these big plans.”

“She encouraged me to use my talents as an English student to bring her situation with her husband into the light. Her husband was a rather prominent individual in the U.K., so I did it. And the story was successful.”

“But?”

“Aye, but.” He took a breath. “But her husband wasn’t happy we exposed him. She was able to get a restraining order against him, making them fully divorced. And she got her money back.” He took another breath. “But two months later, she was driving home and she drove into a guardrail on the road.” 

“I’m so sorry.” 

“The seatbelt was sliced by the rail, and so was she. She died in that car. And when they examined the car afterward, they noticed the brakes had been tampered with.”

“Her husband?”

“I believe so. But I couldn’t charge him because of lack of proof. They said we’d never be able to pin him to the crime.” Emma could see Killian was still torn up over the loss. “So I did what I did best - I wrote a story on it. I made it fairly clear in the story who did it, but I never actually named him. However, it was enough for the government to look into, and they arrested him for other things - fraud, bribery, failure to appear - among other things.”

“At least he got arrested.”

“Aye. I just wish it could be for what he did for Milah. She deserves justice.”

“You did what you could, and I know you might feel like it wasn’t enough, but you did a really good thing.”

“Well, thank you, Swan. She was my first real love - not just a conquest. I never thought I’d love again.”

“Thought? Past tense?” Killian’s eyes may have just sparkled as he nodded.

“Well, things change. And the future is nothing to be afraid of.”

 

Emma was certain she wasn’t the only one trying not to squirm in her rolling chair as she and Killian waited patiently for final preparations to be finished in the studio. Perhaps if they were alone, she could have settled some of the restlessness by chatting with Killian beforehand, going over the last lingering details again before they went on air. But seated just on her other side was Robert Siegel - actual NPR host and reason for her being there. Her right leg bounced with excitement and nerves. 

Sure, she’s had a couple stories featured on NPR shows before, but she had always recorded those stories either onsite or back in the studio at Storybrooke Public Radio. Now, though, she was about to go live on “All Things Considered” with a story she was extremely proud of at NPR studios in Washington DC. This might just be the greatest moment of Emma’s life. 

But apparently NPR couldn’t afford a third microphone, which was why her chair was pressed up against Killian’s, the pair squeezed in together to share the single microphone. At least they had their own headsets. But still, if Emma’s thigh was any further to her left, it would be touching Killian’s. And that was somehow even more unnerving than going live for her first story from NPR HQ. 

Everything about Killian Jones overwhelmed Emma. He was sweet and smart and genuinely interested in getting to know her. She trusted him despite every experience she’s ever had telling her not to. And she wanted to be close to him - just maybe not practically sitting in his lap while she was supposed to be reporting on NPR and focused on destroying her competition, which included a certain Brit. A certain Brit whose breath smelled like black coffee, which Emma knew because he was currently breathing onto her face. She silently wished Robert Siegel would stop making conversation with Killian because every time the latter responded, she could feel his breath, hot on her cheek. It was entirely distracting, and Emma couldn’t afford distraction right now. 

Emma tried to pay attention to Robert Siegel until they were to go live - ‘tried’ being the operative word. She felt like Killian was surrounding her, and he kind of was. He had an arm resting along the back of her chair, fingers dangling awfully close to Emma’s shoulder. His leg was less than an inch from her leg. And - _gosh_ \- if they leaned in to talk into the microphone at the same time, their faces would be touching. 

Emma jerked her head to look at Killian when he nudged her with his elbow. He leaned in and whispered into her ear.

“Are you ready? Live in one minute.” 

She shut her eyes for a moment and focused on the story. She was going to answer the questions and focus on her reporting. She needed this interview to go well. Their stories would be judged both on this interview and the written story that would go on the website. Her eyes shot to the NPR host on her right when he started speaking. 

“And I’m Robert Siegel in Washington.” 

This was it. Her first story for NPR from NPR studios. 

“As more and more sexual assault allegations are brought up, how can we keep up with it all? With the seemingly never-ending accusations, how do we know what to believe? Here to shed some light on victim credibility are two talented reporters - one of whom may very well take my job in January - Emma Swan, of member station WSPR, and Killian Jones, of member station WBUR. Thank you both for joining me.”

Both Emma and Killian leaned in at the same time to respond. Her hair rubbed his cheek. 

“Thank you for having us,” Emma got out first.

“It’s an honor to be here,” Killian added. 

_Focus, Emma. Focus on journalism and the words on the paper in front of you and the questions Robert Siegel was asking. Focus on anything but Killian’s beaming smile and how his coffee breath doesn’t even smell bad._

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And she did - for the most part. She focused on her story and her responses, and she sounded not only coherent, but good - really good. And she only got distracted by Killian Jones when he absolutely gave her all the credit for their story on the air. Damn him. It was charming and honest and she could see the pride on his face. He was proud, but not of himself. He was proud of _her._

When the news came in that they had passed their round and were to stay in the competition, Killian was quick to quip about them making quite the team. And he was right. 

With their achievement came another prize; the remaining contestants would each be granted their own room for the remainder of the competition. It would be a welcome relief to have her own space again, but Emma couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed that she would no longer have Killian’s company bright and early each morning. They’d have group meetings, but now that they would be in nicer rooms, they had no reason to leave the hotel all the time. Not to mention that she and Killian weren’t working together anymore. But Emma and Killian wrote down each other’s room numbers when they got their room keycards anyway. Not that Emma planned to use that information or anything. Absolutely not. Because the partner work was finished and Killian was her competition again. And she had to get all thoughts of that smile beaming with pride for her out of her mind. But that, of course, was easier said than done. 

Walking into NPR headquarters the following week was refreshing. Rather than being greeted by nine other reporters, there were only five other faces - only five other people she needed to destroy in order to live her greatest journalism dream. Emma saw only one problem: Killian Jones was one of those five people she had to destroy. 

After getting to know him, even just a little bit, she found that she didn’t really have any desire to destroy Killian at anything. In fact, she kind of (absolutely) wanted to get to know him better. She wanted to root for him in the competition, too, because it had become clear over the past few days that he deserved the spot as much as she did. Not that she was about to give up her place in the competition to ensure he got the spot, though. Certainly not. She was slightly conflicted.

Her face fell when she walked in and wasn’t immediately greeted by a smile from Killian. She poured herself some of the coffee that was provided for free every morning and sat down in an end seat at the large table in the center of the conference room. Emma scanned the room, gazing just above the top of the phone she was pretending to use. She wasn’t about to let on that she was looking for Killian. Still, she couldn’t quite suppress the small smile that broke out on her face when she spotted him pacing back and forth in the hallway. After minutes of trying not to blatantly stare at him, he finally made her spying easier and walked in the room. He bypassed the free coffee altogether and immediately sat in the seat closest to Emma. 

“Good morning, Swan.”

“Are you worried about something? That was quite a bit of pacing you did there.” 

His cheeks immediately grew red, but he shook it off fairly quickly.

“You were watching?” He quirked an eyebrow.

She’d given herself up. Now it was Emma’s turn to turn red. She shrugged in response, not trusting her voice to hide her embarrassment. 

“Well, Swan, it was nice of you to be worried about me. But I was merely speaking to my older brother. He’s in the Navy, and he doesn’t always get time to call. He wanted to check on how the competition was going.” 

“That’s nice of him.” She winced as soon as the words left her mouth; her tone was drier than she hoped it would be. He gave her a curious look before returning his facial expression to normal. She interrupted before he could say anything. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for that to come out so bitter.” 

“It’s fine, love. I understand.” He really _did_ understand that she only sounded bitter because she never had a brother - or any relatives, really - to care about her like that. 

Emma nodded in response, letting him know that she appreciated the understanding and he was free to continue talking. He took the cue. 

“Liam can be overprotective for the both of us.” 

“You’ve mentioned him a couple times before.” 

“Aye. The best brother in the universe. He raised me, really.” Emma’s eyes dropped to her coffee cup, the contents quickly cooling. “When my mum died, my father turned to alcohol. Poor excuse for a father he was. Liam left school to work. My father spent all our money on drinks, and Liam wanted us to be prepared for the day he passed out in an alley and didn’t get up.” 

Emma listened, not commenting. Killian was yet again opening up to her, and she was going to pay attention. They should probably stop making incredibly personal confessions in public places.

“That wasn’t what happened, though I think I’d prefer it. That probably makes me a horrible person, but I would rather have had my father die than abandon us like he did.” She could hear the anger in his voice. “The man was a coward.”

“For the record,” she interrupted, “I don't think that makes you a horrible person.”

He took a moment before speaking again.

“Well, thank you, Swan. I'm glad you see it that way.” Emma couldn’t believe he thought himself a horrible person. He wasn't anything even resembling horrible. She would have to make sure he knew that, but maybe she'd wait until after yet another one of his emotional stories.

“One day, he disappeared. After three weeks, Liam and I figured he wouldn't come back. We knew he hadn't passed out somewhere and finally succumbed to the alcohol because Liam checked. Every day for three weeks, he would go out after I was to go to sleep. He thought I was sleeping, but I wasn't. And I knew where he went every night. Another thing about my father; he always preferred Liam over myself. So Liam didn't have the disrespect I had towards the man - not yet, anyway. And he went out every night for those three weeks, searching all our father's frequented bars for him. No one in town had seen him. It was after those three weeks that a man came to our house. Liam knew the man from the docks. My brother always wanted to be a Navy man, so he got out on boats any chance he got. He worked at the docks for money after mum passed.” Killian paused and Emma watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed a couple times before continuing. “One of Liam's friends from the dock told us he saw our father boarding an unregistered ship. Since the ship wasn't registered, he had no idea of where it was headed or whose ship it was. He said he tried to get my father's attention and to stop the ship, but alas, it was fruitless.”

“What a dick,” Emma muttered out of instinct. She didn't really mean to say that out loud. Oops. 

Killian chuckled. _Phew._

“Aye. That he was.” 

“Your brother sounds like a good guy.” 

“The best. Had to grow up before his time, but he never complained once about any of it. He left school to work so he and I could eat. We never had much, but he would always give me more than he had himself. If we had soup for dinner, I got two helpings and he got one. At night, I had a pillow and blanket and he had a sleeping bag. He always made sure I did well in school, and he never let me worry about anything. He said that was his job and he'd take care of us both.” 

“Wow.”

“Yeah.” Emma could see the pride and admiration Killian had for his brother. “It took about half a year for him to win legal custody of me in court, and I still don't know how he did it. But he did. And then we decided to leave the country. Too many negative memories. We went to Boston with all our money and what few possessions were dear to us. It was near water. Then, he joined the Navy, and I attended school. And then I joined the Navy when I was of age.”

Killian really had quite the story. He seemed to look back with a sense of pride for his brother, but also something else Emma couldn't quite put her finger on. It wasn't longing or disappointment or sadness. She wished she could read that emotion, but she was fine with letting him keep talking. 

“Liam was my captain. I rose to the rank of lieutenant before I got hurt.” He held up his left hand, which was covered by a black glove - a prosthetic. She had noticed it, but never had the courage to ask. It was convincing; she wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t worked so close with him. And he seemed to try to hide it most of the time. Now that she thought about it, he never once touched her with his left hand, he was always on her left side, and he constantly had his hand in his pocket. He watched her as she thought about it, shame seeming to creep into his eyes. Before she could reassure him that his hand - or lack thereof - was nothing to be ashamed about, he decided to sate her curiosity.

“We were docked away from home for some time, allowed to go into town and enjoy ourselves before our next orders came in. I had done a fair bit or drinking; seems I inherited my father's affinity for alcohol.” He spoke that last line through his clenched teeth. Loosening up, he took a breath and continued. “There was work to be done on the ship. My alcohol-addled brain decided to work on some of it. I thought I could make Liam and the rest of the crew happy by alleviating their workloads later. So I started some mechanical work.”

“Killian, I know where this is going. You don't have to keep telling me.” 

He nodded. “I should spare you the details anyway.” He looked down at where his prosthetic hand rested on the table. Definitely shame. “The doctors couldn't save my hand. Liam stayed with me in hospital, taking leave from service for the time. I was an arse, but Liam made it his goal to make sure I recovered best I could and made something of myself. So once I finished physical therapy and he could trust that I wouldn't drink myself to death, he enrolled me in university. And you know how that story ends.” 

Emma considered what to do next. She didn't want to say anything overly emotional, and she didn't think Killian wanted to hear it anyway. And there was something more to that story with Liam. Killian had told her what happened, but there was a feeling there, lingering just behind his words. He felt like he was always second-best to Liam. Overly emotional probably wouldn't do, although one day, she would have to tell him that he's absolutely second to none. And, god, he shouldn’t be ashamed of his disability.

But Andrew would be there soon to give them their assignment. So instead, she lifted up her cup of now cold coffee and made a toast. “To terrible pasts and broken people,” she said, taking a sip of the drink before handing the cup to Killian, who repeated the toast and took a swig of the coffee himself.

By the time Andrew walked through the door, Killian’s mood had seemed to improve, though Emma didn’t fail to notice how his gaze seemed to linger on her. How could she not notice, when she found herself sneaking her own glances at him?

 

They were down to five competitors now. Emma figured she might as well get to know at least the names of her fellow reporters (other than Killian). She learned their names were Jefferson, August, and Aurora. Jefferson, she found, was experimental and up for anything. He seemed a bit crazy, but that worked for some people. August was generally quiet and ultra-focused. He kept to himself with his eye on the prize, but Emma sensed he also had a gentle side. And Aurora was kind, and she cared about _a lot_ of issues. She covered a wide range of stories, and the amount of care Aurora had for the subjects was clear. 

All three of them were great journalists, but Emma felt confident she could take each one of them down. She and Killian worked together to sniff out their competitors’ weaknesses. Jefferson could be a bit too out there sometimes. August was too quiet for a hosting gig. And Aurora wasn’t much for stories about subjects she didn’t care deeply about. 

Throughout Emma and Killian’s teamup, she tried to remember when she decided getting so close to a competitor was a good idea. She figured probably around the time he mentioned that they made a great team. And the amount of personal information shared by them both was incredible. Or alarming. The two of them settled into a _routine._ Emma had never had a routine involving anyone but herself. She just met the guy, yet they went to Starbucks every morning. And they worked, even on individual projects, together. She was even okay with going back to one of their hotel rooms. She may have fallen asleep on the hotel bed with him a few times while they were watching Netflix. The fact that she wasn’t uncomfortable with it should have terrified her. It didn’t.

Still, it was a wonder they could do such great work together when it felt that most of their time was taken up by sarcastic quips toward one another and bumping heads on seemingly everything. For two people who actually had a lot in common, they argued a lot. At least it was never over anything serious. 

And Emma wasn’t stupid. She knew the talk going around. She saw the looks the other competitors gave her and Killian. They were a package deal, and everyone knew it. Even the NPR reporters they got to work with told Emma how much they loved her work with Killian. But as well as they worked together, they were competition. And Emma’s dream job was on the line. She was going to take that spot for herself. And nobody, especially not Killian Jones, was going to stop her. 

Emma frowned when she walked into NPR HQ and wasn’t greeted by a sarcastic comment. Her fellow applicants were huddled together in the corner of the conference room.

“Where’s Jones?” She asked. Jefferson, August, and Aurora all stared at her in unison. Emma’s eyes flickered between the three. “What?”

“Didn’t you hear?” Aurora and Jefferson glanced at August nervously. 

“Hear what?” Emma crossed her arms and stared August down. “What’s going on?”

“His brother,” August stated as if that explained everything. Emma raised her eyebrows and waited. “His brother died yesterday.” 

“What happened?” Emma worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

“We don’t know. Something happened on his ship. The Navy won’t release anything yet.” 

Aurora handed Emma a newspaper. “Check the obituaries.” Aurora kept her voice lowered as if Emma would scare off if she spoke louder. Emma found it immediately:

_Captain Liam Brennan Jones passed away with full honors aboard the USS Jewel of the Realm on Tuesday, November 14, 2017. Capt. Jones left behind a brother, Lieutenant Killian Jones, of whom the Captain was immensely proud, and a fiancee, Elsa Arendelle. Funeral services will be held Friday, November 17, 2017 at Arlington National Cemetery, and Killian Jones will be presented with the Navy Cross on his brother’s behalf._

Emma was speechless. She immediately wanted to comfort him, but she figured he probably went home to deal with everything.

“Is he still in the competition?”

“Yeah. NPR is letting him take some time off.” Aurora approached Emma delicately - like she would break if she was too rough.

“None of us will be eliminated until he’s back, but we get to keep doing stories,” Jefferson added. Emma nodded. Good. Killian wouldn’t be eliminated for this.

“He was close with his brother, wasn’t he?” Aurora asked Emma.

“Why are you asking me? I never met his brother.”

“You two have been inseparable since the partner assignment,” August noted.

“Yeah, we all just kind of figured…” Aurora never finished that thought.

“We’re friends.” The three competitors shared a look. Emma rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Okay, seriously? We’re just friends. Only one of us can win after all, which means the other one will lose. That wouldn’t make for a great relationship.” Emma’s comment was met with silence and less than convincing nods from her fellow reporters. “But, yes, he and Liam were close. At least from what he told me, they were really close.”

“The poor thing,” Aurora’s hand covered her mouth and her eyes turned sad.

Emma was spared having to defend her relationship - or lack thereof - with Killian when Andrew walked in the room. She didn’t pay much attention to what he had to say, instead debating if she should call later or send flowers or both. Or if she should do nothing and wait until she saw him again. She overanalyzed each option to the point where she almost drove herself crazy. 

When her competitors were knee-deep in story writing, she decided to send Killian a text. The rest would be up to him.

 

The following day, Emma entered the conference room and nearly dropped her hot chocolate when she saw Killian across the room. He was hunched over, his head resting on his arms where they were folded on the table. Emma ignored greetings from August and Aurora as she made her way over to Killian. 

“Hey, Jones.” 

His head shot up to look at her, and she got a good look at him. He looked worse for wear. His hair was way past the point of being disheveled, and his eyes were red and puffy. He’d been crying recently. Judging by the way he sniffed as he sat up, he had probably cried since arriving that day.

“Swan.” He gave her a watery smile.

“What are you doing here?” 

His smile, as pretend as it was, disappeared in a flash. 

“This is work, Swan. I need to show up if I want the job.” 

“I don’t think anyone would blame you for taking a few days.” She kept eye contact with him. He looked so broken. He shook his head. 

“Need to get back to normal. He wouldn’t have wanted me to give up my shot at this job for him.” 

Emma pulled her lips behind her teeth. Comforting wasn’t really her thing. She peered at the hot chocolate in her hand before she slid it over so it was in front of Killian.

“Here.” He cocked an eyebrow at her, bringing back some semblance of normalcy. “Drink it.”

“No, Swan. It’s yours.” He stared at his lap.

“You need it more than me.” He raised his eyes to meet hers without lifting his head. He was being stubborn; she knew stubborn better than anyone. Crossing her arms, she sat back. “If you don’t drink it, I’ll throw it away. You wouldn’t want to waste a large hot chocolate, would you?” She shot him an encouraging smile.

“Of course not.” He took a sip of the drink. “Thank you, Swan.” 

She nodded in response. As she watched him take another long sip of her hot chocolate, she was sure having to go the morning without the beverage was worth it. The warmth was returning to his cheeks already - not that she was looking or anything. Definitely not. She was just worried about him. Yeah, just worried. She felt bad that he just lost his brother - that was all. She snuck glances at him for the next ten minutes before Andrew came into the room. 

“Hello, journalists. Before we begin, I want to express condolences - on behalf of all of us at NPR - for your loss, Killian. I am so sorry.”

“Thanks.” Killian tried his hardest to smile, but his eyes remained trained on the table in front of him.

“With the loss of Captain Liam Jones, it seems more people have died from naval incidents than the Afghan War this year.” 

Emma shot Killian another concerned glance. She fought the urge to take his hand to comfort him. 

“Emma, we want you to take that story. Get it done today and you’ll have off the rest of the week. Plus, you’ll be immune from elimination this week. The rest of you will pick your own stories for competition.” Emma looked at Killian again and bit her lip. “Is there a problem, Emma?”

“I just think maybe Killian should take it.” Every head in the room shot up to look at her. 

“I’m not sure that’s such a great idea,” Aurora started.

“Well, I know he wants to be here and do a story, and he has a connection to this one. It might help him with-” she paused when she noticed no one’s expression had changed “-closure.” Besides, anyone could tell just from looking at him that he could use the time off. 

“Killian, are you up to it?” Andrew looked skeptical.

The man in question sat up straighter and avoided Emma’s gaze. “Absolutely.” 

“Alright then. Killian will take the Navy story. I want story idea pitches from the rest of you in 24 hours.” He left the room, leaving the journalists to work. 

Emma couldn’t concentrate on story ideas because she was too busy worrying about Killian, who hadn’t moved since taking the story. His jaw was clenched and he was stiff. He was angry with her. She opened and closed her mouth a few times before deciding that saying nothing was probably the best option. Let him talk first. 

Aurora was the first one to approach Killian. “Hey, why don't you work from your hotel room? You already have your story.” Emma _absolutely_ didn’t notice Aurora’s hand on Killian’s back.

“I’m fine here, but thank you, Aurora. I can get my work done here and then use my time off to finish funeral preparations.” His demeanor had completely changed in a second. He was personable and calm talking to her. And then he looked at Emma and the coldness returned. 

“Let me know if I can do anything for you, alright?”

“Alright, lass. Thank you again.” Killian gave Aurora a nod before she walked away from him to do her own work. Killian turned to address Emma. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. “Don’t.”

“Let me explain.”

He held up his hand to stop her. “No. You don’t get to speak. I don’t want your pity story.”

“It wasn’t a pity story.” 

“Please,” he scoffed.

“Killian, please.” Emma tried her best to stay calm. Yelling back at him wasn’t going to help the situation.

“You gave me the story because you felt bad for me.” His accent was even stronger when he was yelling.

“That’s not why-”

“I am perfectly capable of participating in this competition and winning on my own, and that includes beating you, Emma. I don’t need your help.” Her first name. Ouch. That was a new and unpleasant development.

“I know you’re capable! That wasn’t the point!” 

“Save it. It was a pity story and we both know it.” 

She could see that the words were uncomfortable coming out of his mouth. He didn’t mean any of this. He just needed to purge some of the swirling emotions he was dealing with.

“You didn’t have to take it.”

“You gave me a means to get ahead. I’m not dumb enough to give that up.”

“But-”

“I thought you were above the pity. That you understood. But now I see the truth,” he pushed on, not giving her a chance to get a single word out. “You gave me a story out of pity and I took it because it puts me ahead in the competition. That’s it. And now I’m done with this conversation, much like I’m done with you.” 

He inched closer to her with every sentence. When he finished speaking, she got a good look at him. He wasn’t angered. He was sad - _really sad_. Devastated and scared and… broken. He walked away, leaving her struggling to figure out how to help him feel better when it was clear he wanted to be alone for a bit. She decided it was best to let him have that time, then she’d try. But until then, she was back to being a lone wolf in the competition.

 

What compelled Emma to go to Virginia and attend Liam’s funeral was beyond her. Killian was currently giving her the silent treatment. She shouldn’t have wanted to be there for him. But the look in his eyes when he’d yelled at her - he was lost. She knew the look; she’d had that look once. 

So she showed up, despite everything in her telling her she had no business being there. What if he was still mad at her and didn’t want her there? God, she’d never even met Liam. What was she doing there? 

Well, too late to back out now. 

Emma hid, positioning herself behind a tree and behind the service. She stared at the backs of the heads in front of her - heads of Liam’s family and friends, all mourning the death of someone Emma had never met. She caught a glimpse of Killian standing over a coffin with an American flag draped over it. He was next to a woman - she must have been the fiancee, Elsa. She had her arm around Killian’s waist, the other holding a tissue to her face. Killian looked at his watch, nodded to two men in uniform - naval officers - and sat down next to Elsa.

Emma was far enough away that hearing what was being said about Liam was a challenge, but she picked up on bits and pieces. Everyone saw him as a hero - not just Killian. And he was friendly to literally everyone he met. And Killian hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d told her that Liam had raised him. Everyone in attendance seemed to know what the brothers had gone through. And Emma heard - multiple times - how Liam had always talked about how proud he was of Killian. She saw Killian’s shoulders sag a little more every time it was mentioned. 

The officers folded the flag that was draped over the coffin and handed it to Killian. He stood and shook the officers’ hands. The rest of the crowd stood as the coffin was lowered into the grave. 

The whole ceremony was beautiful - fitting for a man who died while in active duty. The officers left first. People lined up to talk to Killian and Elsa. Emma grew more nervous as people left. By the time the crowd had dwindled down to just Killian and his almost-sister-in-law, Emma was already well into considering leaving. She had no business being there. But when Killian and Elsa hugged and Elsa left to go home, leaving Killian to have a moment alone with his brother, she knew it was now or never. She had originally planned on giving Killian some time alone with Liam for closure or whatnot, but when she saw him sit on the wet grass next to the open grave, she changed her mind. He shouldn’t be alone. Stepping quietly out from behind the tree, she silently came up behind him. 

“Jones,” her voice was far steadier than she anticipated. Killian’s head jerked around to look at her. Even from a few feet away, she could see the red around his eyes.

“Swan? What are you...” he trailed off as she approached him.

“I’m sorry.” There was more in those two words than just her condolences. Killian seemed to get that. His eyes widened and he nodded softly, taking a deep breath. He stayed silent. Emma had never known him to not have some witty comment or backhanded compliment. It was weird. She had to break the silence. “I didn’t think you should be alone.” His eyes widened even more. 

“I’m hardly alone, Swan, as you saw.” She narrowed her eyes in question. “I’m assuming you were around for the service, judging by the wetness of your dress.” 

She looked down at her black dress, completely unaware the drizzle had soaked in so deeply. Her cheeks reddened.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” And there was more to those two words as well. 

“It was a nice ceremony,” Emma tried again as she sat down. Killian stared out in the distance, looking just above Liam’s grave. 

“It was.”

“Your brother was a hero.”

“Aye. That he was.” Killian reached into his pocket and pulled out a badge. “This is a Naval Cross. They gave it to me on Liam’s behalf. I wanted to bury it with him, but the officers told me to keep it for myself. So it’ll be like I have a piece of Liam still with me.” Killian’s gaze moved from the distance to the grass under his legs. He still didn’t look at the grave. 

“You have the flag, too. Right?” 

Killian shook his head and laughed dryly. 

“We’re not even American - not really. Just served in the Navy.” Emma said nothing. “Liam always wanted to be a ‘Navy Man.’ He wanted to serve in the Royal Navy. But we had no desire to remain in the country where our mother fell ill and our father abandoned us, so we moved to the States. We joined the Navy here; he loved it. But we’re - or we _were,_ I guess - British. Having an American flag as memento of him wouldn’t feel right.” 

Emma’s silence continued. She didn’t know what to say. She was pretty sure there was no way to make someone who just lost his brother and father-figure feel better.

“Besides,” he continued, “I wanted Elsa to have something of Liam’s. I gave her the flag. They were to be married soon. It would have been hers if they were. It seemed right.”

“It was right.” She wasn’t great at comforting, but he needed to know he did the right thing. She knew that Liam was always so much of a hero that Killian felt he could never live up to the bar the elder brother set, and Emma made it her mission to show him how amazing he really was.

Emma moved her own gaze from the horizon to the man in front of her - the man whose wall of innuendo and sarcasm was finally down. 

“Thanks for coming, Swan,” Killian took a deep breath and met Emma’s eyes with his own. “After I yelled at you back at the office, I wasn’t sure you’d ever speak to me again.” 

“Don’t worry about it. You were upset and I never should have given up the story for you.”

He shook his head. 

“That doesn’t excuse my outburst. I apologize.”

“It’s okay.” They sat in silence for a long moment. “You can yell at me all you want. I still wasn’t going to let you be alone today.”

“Thank you, Swan. It’s nice to have a friend, and someone who didn’t know Liam.” He sighed. “Everyone knows Liam was a hero. He was always a hero. He was a hero after my mother died, helping my father and going to work to make money so we could survive. He was a hero when my father abandoned us. He was a hero when I was a mouthy, rebellious, bloody awful teenager. And he was a hero when we both joined the Navy together. He was a bloody good captain. He was the hero again when I got hurt.” 

Killian took the black glove off his prosthetic hand. There was something incredibly intimate about the act. Emma didn’t miss that. So she took the newly-exposed appendage in her own hand. She didn’t miss the way he held his breath. 

She also didn’t miss the deep breath Killian took before he continued. 

“And he was a hero on that last day. If only he hadn’t been so damn heroic, he would still be alive. He saved them. He saved every one of his crew members.” He paused. “He was a hero to a fault.” Killian’s voice broke and Emma watched tears slide down his cheek. He let out a watery laugh and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry, Swan. You’re here to help me feel better and I’m feeling sorry for myself because my brother couldn’t stop being a hero for two seconds.”

“It’s okay,” Emma’s voice was barely above a whisper. “You have every right to be upset, especially now.” She tilted her head toward the grave. 

She watched something in Killian’s face change - soften, but she was completely unprepared as he pulled her in for a hug. She wrapped her arms around him and rubbed soothing circles on his back as he let himself break down for the first time that day. He had cried, sure, but now he was sobbing - uncontrolled, uncontained. 

And this was different. In this interaction, their whole relationship was changing - and they both knew it. They’d figure out what the hell was going on with themselves later. But for now, Emma was content to sit there, in front of Liam Jones’ open grave, and let Killian Jones sob into her shoulder. 

This was it. They were about to find out the winner of the competition. Emma and Killian sat in the conference room, which suddenly felt all too large without the other competitors. Everyone else had slowly been eliminated over the past couple weeks, and it was now down to the pair of them. Emma glanced over at Killian when he elbowed her.

“Good luck, Swan.” He smiled at her, but she knew how badly he wanted the spot for himself, and she could see how nervous he was.

“Good luck, Killian.” She sent him a reassuring smile and took his hand, which was resting on the table. He gave her hand a light squeeze when their competition ringleader came into the room one final time.

“Ready to find out who won?” Emma nodded and Killian mumbled something unintelligible in reply. “I have a couple surprises for you.” 

Emma’s head turned quickly when she heard a group of people walk into the room. She felt herself smiling when she saw her eight former competitors take seats around the table. There was a murmur of “congratulations” and “I knew it would be you two,” and Emma was overwhelmed in the best way. 

Things got even more overwhelming when Robert Siegel walked in after the group of reporters. She and Killian shared a look. She was growing more anxious by the minute.

“Congratulations to both of you,” Robert Siegel began. “The executives and donors debated for quite a while on which one of you should get the spot. The final vote was not unanimous, and you should both be extremely proud of the work you’ve done.” Emma’s grip on Killian’s hand got tighter. “The winner of the new ‘All Things Considered’ hosting position, and my replacement is,” he paused for dramatic effect. Emma may have stopped breathing. “Emma Swan. Congratulations!” 

Emma froze. She probably smiled, but she really couldn’t be sure. She’d actually won. She’d just gotten her dream job. She smiled, full of pride, and thanked Robert Siegel for the news. Killian looked at her, beaming with pride for her, and congratulated her, along with the other competitors. But even through the ear-to-ear smile plastered on Killian’s face, she could see the hint of disappointment in his eyes. He’d wanted that spot. She thanked him and pulled him into a hug, which she would claim was in utter joy from winning and absolutely not to comfort him. Not at all. He wouldn't want her to focus on him when she just won her dream job.

“You did it, Swan,” he whispered into her hair. She grinned even wider against his chest. 

“Killian,” Robert Siegel interrupted. Emma pulled away so Killian could give the soon-to-be former host his attention. “I actually have some news for you as well. First of all, you almost won the entire competition with the piece you did on the number of Naval deaths this year. Everyone was really impressed with the work you did on that story.” Emma nudged him with her elbow. “But overall, Emma’s work was closer to the work done by a host. _However,_ ” he emphasized the word, “ the donors and executives admired your quality of work throughout the competition, and NPR would like to offer you a position as head of a new department, covering the armed forces. You would lead the entire department, but your focus would be on the Navy.” Killian’s face lit up and Emma was already hugging him again, wishing him a congratulations through her still-smiling face.

“Liam would be proud of you,” she whispered. His eyes expressed all the appreciation his mouth couldn’t while he was busy thanking other people for their congratulations. 

They would both be working at NPR. That was definitely a sign, and Emma wasn’t going to ignore this one. 

After Robert Siegel gave them instructions for what to do next and when they would both start, Emma pulled Killian to the back corner of the room - in front of the complimentary coffee - and pulled him down for a kiss by the lapels of that stupidly well-fitting leather jacket. 

Some conscious part of her mind kept reminding her that they were in their future place of employment, so she pulled away, both of them wearing matching smiles. She let out a laugh of disbelief. _“We did it.”_

 

“Swan, let’s go for a drive.” 

“What?” Emma looked up from her laptop to see Killian dangling his car keys on his prosthetic hand. 

“The car. Let’s get in it.” He was grinning at her.

She crossed her arms. They’d been dating for long enough now that Emma could tell in a second when Killian was up to something. And he was _definitely_ up to something. “Why?”

“‘It’s Been a Minute’ is on.” He was still grinning. 

“So? We don’t listen to it every week. And contrary to what you seem to believe, just because we work for NPR doesn’t mean we need to listen to every show every day.” 

He closed the distance between himself and his girlfriend and closed her laptop before putting it onto their coffee table in front of Emma. He held his hand out for her. She kept her arms crossed and rolled her eyes.

“I think you’re going to want to listen to this one.” 

“Okay, so we’ll listen from the laptop.” He shook his head. “From the stereo.” He was still shaking his head. “You know it’s a podcast, right? We can listen to it whenever we want.” He just grinned even more and tapped his foot overdramatically. She sighed in defeat and took his still-outstretched hand.

Killian led Emma to his car, opening her door for her. She rolled her eyes again. He pretended not to notice. 

Once they’d been on the road for five minutes in silence, minus Sam Sanders’ voice coming from the speakers, Emma turned to Killian. 

“Where are we going?”

“Spoilers, Swan.” 

He kept his eyes trained on the road. Whatever he was up to was weighing heavily on his mind. She could see it. 

“You are impossible.” 

He shrugged in response. _Smug idiot._

Emma went to change the station. Neither of them were really listening to the show.

“No, no, no,” he raised his voice. 

“What? You’re obviously not listening. I’m too busy trying to figure out where we’re going to listen. Let’s put on music or something.” She put her hand in her lap anyway. 

“Just keep it on. And I _am_ listening.” She knew he wasn’t.

“You know Sam won’t know if we’re listening or not. Relax.” Emma wished he would turn to look at her. It was really hard to read him when he was so focused on the road. 

“This isn’t about Sam, love. I promise it will be worth it. Just leave it on.” 

Emma let out a “hmph,” but left the podcast running. She kept looking at Killian, suspicious at his out-of-character silence. Sighing quietly, she looked out the window again, vaguely aware that Sam Sanders, Linda Holmes, and Kelly McEvers were still talking on the podcast. 

“Killian, you’re literally driving in circles. We’ve been past this street before.” 

He just chuckled to himself and sighed, but he seemed perfectly content with the situation. 

“Just keep listening.” Emma crossed her arms and sunk into her seat in defeat. 

“You know I was being productive back home.” She actually didn’t care that much anymore, but she was nothing if not stubborn. 

“It’ll be worth your while.” 

“Are you being cryptically vague for a reason?” He laughed in response. 

“You aren’t listening, love.” 

“No offense to Sam or anything, but I’m really not all that into how much TV Trump watches.” 

“Well, I can hardly blame you for that, but bear with me.” She had no response. “Besides, we’re almost there.” 

“Where? We’ve been driving back and forth for almost 45 minutes.” 

“I did that so we could listen, which you haven’t been doing much of.” She knew that if he weren’t driving, he would have punctuated that accusation with a nose boop. Emma found herself smiling at the thought against her will. She stayed silent for the remainder of the trip, actually trying to listen to the podcast. 

_“And now it’s time for my favorite part of the show - the part where we listen to the best part of your week. We encourage listeners to brag, and they always do. Record an audio of yourself telling us the best part of your week, and send your audio to samsanders@npr.org. We play as many as we can. Let’s hear them.”_

“We’re here, Swan.”

“The U.S. National Arboretum?” Emma read the sign in front of what appeared to be the Visitor Center. Killian nodded, but didn’t move. “Are we getting out of the car?”

“Yup.” Killian popped the “p” before he walked around the car to Emma’s door. He opened it, smiling. His eyes were even bluer than usual. He held out one of his earbuds for Emma to take. He had the podcast downloaded to his phone - of course he did. Emma took it, playing along with whatever he was up to. They walked around the arboretum hand-in-hand - through cherry blossom trees and hollies and magnolias - until they got to the National Capitol Columns. Killian stopped them at rows of flowers in front of the columns, all of which were brightened by sunlight. Killian pushed Emma to keep listening to the last segment of the show.

_“Hi, Sam. It’s Nate from New Jersey, and the best part of my week was finally getting to take my 4-year-old daughter to Disney World.”_ Okay, Emma had to admit that was adorable. 

_“Hey, Sam. It’s Killian Jones. The best part of my week was getting engaged.”_

Emma’s jaw dropped.

_“And that, of course, is NPR’s own Killian Jones, armed forces reporter. And his girlfriend is Emma Swan, host of ‘All Things Considered.’ NPR, bringing people together. Congrats, you guys!”_

Emma heard the two guests on the podcast wish them well, but her jaw was still practically on the ground. 

“Swan.” Killian got down on one knee and fumbled around in his jacket pocket for a little black box. “Emma Swan, from the moment I laid eyes on you our first day of the competition, I knew I wanted to end up here. We make quite a team, and you’re still here despite seeing me at my absolute lowest. So Emma Swan, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” She wanted to kiss that beyond-cute, hopeful look right off his face. “Will you, Emma Swan, marry me?” He lifted the lid of the box to reveal a diamond ring. It was simple, consisting of a diamond centered on the silver band, which was twisted on either side of the diamond. It was classic and gorgeous. He really knew her well. He raised his eyebrows, alerting her to the fact that she still hadn’t answered the question. Immediately, she started nodding. 

“Yes! Yes, Killian.” He stood up and slid the ring onto her finger. It was a perfect fit. She probably shouldn’t have been surprised about that at this point. The sun made the diamond glisten. Emma never imagined she’d have a fairytale romance and an over-the-top proposal from a dashing hero, but here she was. She locked eyes with her brand new fiancé, happy tears threatening to spill from her eyes. One of her hands found the back of his neck and the other rested on his chest as they both leaned in and kissed - in front of the flowers and columns - for the first time as an engaged couple. 

He gave her a minute to collect herself when they finally needed air enough to pull away, and neither one of them could stop smiling. He took her left hand in his right, enjoying the feeling of the silver band against his fingers. 

“Shall we enjoy the rest of the arboretum, my love?” She nodded, dangerously close to letting out a giggle. 

Walking through one of the gardens, Emma looked up at Killian. “You were pretty sure of yourself back there, huh?” 

His eyebrows furrowed.

“What do you mean?”

“You told Sam the best part of your week was getting engaged, not proposing. You must’ve been pretty sure I’d say yes.”

His prosthetic hand shot up to scratch behind his ear. 

“I was strongly hoping you wouldn’t reject my proposal.” 

She kissed his reddening cheek.

“You had nothing to worry about.”


End file.
